“Whatever else can-and has-been said about Victor Frankenstein's monster, one thing cannot be denied: the creature is exceedingly ugly. But in what does this ugliness consist?” (Gigante 565). The sentence (must) state the thoughts of every reader of Shelley’s Frankenstein. Ugly presents itself so obvious in the narrative that such a topic may go undiscussed in lieu of the many other themes. Gigante’s essay adds very interesting conversation to Frankenstein scholarship.
Gigante begins with the history of “ugly”; she explains, “Traditional categories from the eighteenth century-the sublime, the beautiful, the picturesque-exclude the ugly, and though the grotesque (particularly prominent later in the nineteenth century)” (565). Yet, she is remiss is not addressing the binary intrinsic to the definition of beauty: something is beautiful because it is not something else, namely ugly. She does touch this thought from a parameter when she states that “ugly simply lacks” (565). Ugly lacks because it is not full of its converse, beauty. Later in the essay Gigante does expound this point when analyzing the Burkean anti-definition of ugly. Brukes states the binary in his own words: “I imagine [ugliness] to be in all respects the opposite to those qualities which we have laid down for the constituents of beauty” (qtd. in Gigante 569).
Gigante then strikes at the heart (or face) of the matter: if the creation is ugly—his aesthetic physical constitution—he is ugly on the inside as well, meaning his personhood, his character, his being “lacks.” She uses Kantian aporia to delve into this matter. Gigante states, “If beauty entails the idea of good, and if ugliness is the implied opposite of beauty, then it would seem that the ugly entails the idea of evil” (576). Therefore, in Gigante’s reading of Kant not only is ugly vacuous of components of beauty and “lacking” but the polar opposite—evil. At this point, I bring in my own experiences when reading and want to add that with the many biblical allusions included in Frankenstein, I am surprised that Shelley, nor Gigante, employed a famous and appropriate verse, “But the Lord said to Samuel, ‘Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart’” (1Samuel 16:7, NIV). The context of this scripture is Samuel, Prophet to Israel, visiting a Hebrew family by the God’s prompting for the purpose of anointing the next King of Israel. The Lord tells Samuel that he will tell him which young man Samuel is to anoint. As one brother after another passes before Samuel, the Lord declines every one. Finally, a ruddy youth comes before him and Samuel is in disbelief that this lad could be the next king. This is the point at which the above quote is stated in scripture. The Lord tells Samuel that though man looks at the outward appearance; God looks at the heart. The implications of this passage superimposed onto the Creation are many.
Using the meaning of this passage to view the Creation, his personhood, character, and heart qualify to not be ugly, that though ugly, hideous on the outside, his personhood is valued by his inside. Yesterday, in class we discussed about the degree of humanity that both Victor and the Creation expressed. We talked about behavior being an outward expression of one’s character, though I do not think we used that word. But when considering the impact that the Creation has upon the narrative we automatically consider his behavior and judge it by character.
I posit that Shelley used the principle from 1Samuel 16:7 whether conscious or not. What she does with this, however, is disrupts both the outward visage and inward character of the Creation. His black, glossy hair and brilliant teeth juxtapose his ugly features; the Creation conducts acts of “humanity” but also commits murder. But these contradictions are for another writing.
Nicol M. Epple ENG 764 Dr. Williamson June 2, 2014 My Literary History Literary texts can only be read through the reader’s repertoire of knowledge and experience, whether conscious or not. In other words, one cannot approach, apply, or augment a text outside of the framework of his/her knowledge and experience base. The essays of the other students that I have read thus far show keen insight into variations of possible knowledge and experiences. Nick Katsiadas holds that, “Rigidly approaching pieces of literature with any theoretical lens may be very fruitful in terms of gleaning meaning; however, it also tends to be myopic and limiting . . . I maintain unequivocally that scholars should, and must, use a multi-modal theoretical framework when approaching any text; a text simply cannot be reduced by any one theory.” I agree. Using one lens of theoretical approach gives, well, only a singular view. It is like seeing something in the two-dimension when the reality of the object is three-dimensional. What I would add to Nick’s statement is that whether the reader approaches a text through only one theory or not, inadvertently his/her focus also consists of their experience. Evelyn Emma admitted, to which I whole-heartedly concur, that her own “experiences with domesticity as a mother and wife” affect her reading of women writers. Our experiences become the familiar knowledge base by which we compare and contrast all new experience. Such is the case with knowledge; knowledge is like strings tied to the pegs of our cognitive understanding, as one encounters more knowledge the strings tie, form, and eventually form a web (internet come to mind, anyone?). The more knowledge one acquires the more complex the web--which hopefully is not a tangled one. An example of this is our reading of Hemans’ poem today. Unlike Dr. Williamson, I did not think of Keat’s “nightingale” when I read “woman’s breast,” but of my experiences with breast-feeding! Surely, my unique past experiences formed a specific connotation for me that was present when I read “breast.” Very unlike Dr. Williamson’s! Though, I posit that my experience—because I am a woman—may allow me to better understand Hemans’ use of “breast.” Of course, this assumes that Hemans wrote from a woman’s (own) experience with breasts, not having Keats in mind. This raises a question. In our attempts as readers to understand the meaning of text, women’s texts, are we not superimposing our academic angle onto the text? I believe this was Nick’s point-that we need be circumspect and mindful when approaching a text so as to see the full three-dimensional picture, if you will. José Otero brought up a poignant question, “perhaps the true question is not ‘how’ we read literary texts written by women, but ‘how should’ we read those texts?” When I just stated that I “may” have a better understanding of Hemans’ use of “breast” than a non-woman, I set up the “Other” placement of woman to which Evelyn argued we should avoid. She explains, On the one hand, isolating how one reads women’s writing seems to necessarily define that writing as Other . . . can we not read all writing with the same set of interpretive tools, assumptions, and criticisms? One current of thinking may answer that there ought not to be any difference in how we approach a text if we are truly egalitarian. I believe this thought acutely surmises the over-arching question posed to us by Dr. Williamson. Do we need to read women’s texts differently? To Evelyn’s statement I would respond that while I believe we, as scholars, should not have to address the “differences” of women’s writings to men’s, we are simply not living in that egalitarian world, yet. Cara Losier Chanoine poses complications in finding a correct position from which to read women’s writing, “if readers assume that every work produced by a female writers must actively or subconsciously address the female experience in a unique manner, will that limit the scope of their interpretations of the provided texts? This is a question that I struggle to answer in relation to my own role as a scholar.” I struggle with tis as well Cara. But, in order to “get there”—egalitarian positioning of the sexes—I see it imperative to continue the discourse of former feminists. Let the web form in our minds so that we can form a new paradigm of equal. Tell the histories, ideologies, political situations, and cultural expectations, all of the multitudinous factors that contribute to woman’s writing. Then maybe we can move forward and not discuss and contest gendered issues. Therefore, my literary history is all that I have experienced, read, analyzed, and learned, specifically, much feminist theory along with new historicism. I have a good understanding of the scriptures of the Old and New Testaments and discourses contending the patriarchal positioning of woman as unequal within these texts. By no means exhaustive, I have read women’s writings popular in feminist discourse from Sappho, Christine de Pizan, and Simone de Beauvoir, to Woolf, Rich, Stein, and more. I am still actively tying strings together.
ENG 764
Dr. Williamson
Daily Writing_2
Gigante: Frankenstien is Giant Ugly
“Whatever else can-and has-been said about Victor Frankenstein's monster, one thing cannot be denied: the creature is exceedingly ugly. But in what does this ugliness consist?” (Gigante 565). The sentence (must) state the thoughts of every reader of Shelley’s Frankenstein. Ugly presents itself so obvious in the narrative that such a topic may go undiscussed in lieu of the many other themes. Gigante’s essay adds very interesting conversation to Frankenstein scholarship.
Gigante begins with the history of “ugly”; she explains, “Traditional categories from the eighteenth century-the sublime, the beautiful, the picturesque-exclude the ugly, and though the grotesque (particularly prominent later in the nineteenth century)” (565). Yet, she is remiss is not addressing the binary intrinsic to the definition of beauty: something is beautiful because it is not something else, namely ugly. She does touch this thought from a parameter when she states that “ugly simply lacks” (565). Ugly lacks because it is not full of its converse, beauty. Later in the essay Gigante does expound this point when analyzing the Burkean anti-definition of ugly. Brukes states the binary in his own words: “I imagine [ugliness] to be in all respects the opposite to those qualities which we have laid down for the constituents of beauty” (qtd. in Gigante 569).
Gigante then strikes at the heart (or face) of the matter: if the creation is ugly—his aesthetic physical constitution—he is ugly on the inside as well, meaning his personhood, his character, his being “lacks.” She uses Kantian aporia to delve into this matter. Gigante states, “If beauty entails the idea of good, and if ugliness is the implied opposite of beauty, then it would seem that the ugly entails the idea of evil” (576). Therefore, in Gigante’s reading of Kant not only is ugly vacuous of components of beauty and “lacking” but the polar opposite—evil. At this point, I bring in my own experiences when reading and want to add that with the many biblical allusions included in Frankenstein, I am surprised that Shelley, nor Gigante, employed a famous and appropriate verse, “But the Lord said to Samuel, ‘Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart’” (1Samuel 16:7, NIV). The context of this scripture is Samuel, Prophet to Israel, visiting a Hebrew family by the God’s prompting for the purpose of anointing the next King of Israel. The Lord tells Samuel that he will tell him which young man Samuel is to anoint. As one brother after another passes before Samuel, the Lord declines every one. Finally, a ruddy youth comes before him and Samuel is in disbelief that this lad could be the next king. This is the point at which the above quote is stated in scripture. The Lord tells Samuel that though man looks at the outward appearance; God looks at the heart. The implications of this passage superimposed onto the Creation are many.
Using the meaning of this passage to view the Creation, his personhood, character, and heart qualify to not be ugly, that though ugly, hideous on the outside, his personhood is valued by his inside. Yesterday, in class we discussed about the degree of humanity that both Victor and the Creation expressed. We talked about behavior being an outward expression of one’s character, though I do not think we used that word. But when considering the impact that the Creation has upon the narrative we automatically consider his behavior and judge it by character.
I posit that Shelley used the principle from 1Samuel 16:7 whether conscious or not. What she does with this, however, is disrupts both the outward visage and inward character of the Creation. His black, glossy hair and brilliant teeth juxtapose his ugly features; the Creation conducts acts of “humanity” but also commits murder. But these contradictions are for another writing.
Nicol M. Epple
ENG 764
Dr. Williamson
June 2, 2014
My Literary History
Literary texts can only be read through the reader’s repertoire of knowledge and experience, whether conscious or not. In other words, one cannot approach, apply, or augment a text outside of the framework of his/her knowledge and experience base. The essays of the other students that I have read thus far show keen insight into variations of possible knowledge and experiences. Nick Katsiadas holds that, “Rigidly approaching pieces of literature with any theoretical lens may be very fruitful in terms of gleaning meaning; however, it also tends to be myopic and limiting . . . I maintain unequivocally that scholars should, and must, use a multi-modal theoretical framework when approaching any text; a text simply cannot be reduced by any one theory.” I agree. Using one lens of theoretical approach gives, well, only a singular view. It is like seeing something in the two-dimension when the reality of the object is three-dimensional. What I would add to Nick’s statement is that whether the reader approaches a text through only one theory or not, inadvertently his/her focus also consists of their experience. Evelyn Emma admitted, to which I whole-heartedly concur, that her own “experiences with domesticity as a mother and wife” affect her reading of women writers.
Our experiences become the familiar knowledge base by which we compare and contrast all new experience. Such is the case with knowledge; knowledge is like strings tied to the pegs of our cognitive understanding, as one encounters more knowledge the strings tie, form, and eventually form a web (internet come to mind, anyone?). The more knowledge one acquires the more complex the web--which hopefully is not a tangled one. An example of this is our reading of Hemans’ poem today. Unlike Dr. Williamson, I did not think of Keat’s “nightingale” when I read “woman’s breast,” but of my experiences with breast-feeding! Surely, my unique past experiences formed a specific connotation for me that was present when I read “breast.” Very unlike Dr. Williamson’s! Though, I posit that my experience—because I am a woman—may allow me to better understand Hemans’ use of “breast.” Of course, this assumes that Hemans wrote from a woman’s (own) experience with breasts, not having Keats in mind. This raises a question. In our attempts as readers to understand the meaning of text, women’s texts, are we not superimposing our academic angle onto the text? I believe this was Nick’s point-that we need be circumspect and mindful when approaching a text so as to see the full three-dimensional picture, if you will.
José Otero brought up a poignant question, “perhaps the true question is not ‘how’ we read literary texts written by women, but ‘how should’ we read those texts?” When I just stated that I “may” have a better understanding of Hemans’ use of “breast” than a non-woman, I set up the “Other” placement of woman to which Evelyn argued we should avoid. She explains,
On the one hand, isolating how one reads women’s writing seems to necessarily define that writing as Other . . . can we not read all writing with the same set of interpretive tools, assumptions, and criticisms? One current of thinking may answer that there ought not to be any difference in how we approach a text if we are truly egalitarian.
I believe this thought acutely surmises the over-arching question posed to us by Dr. Williamson. Do we need to read women’s texts differently? To Evelyn’s statement I would respond that while I believe we, as scholars, should not have to address the “differences” of women’s writings to men’s, we are simply not living in that egalitarian world, yet. Cara Losier Chanoine poses complications in finding a correct position from which to read women’s writing, “if readers assume that every work produced by a female writers must actively or subconsciously address the female experience in a unique manner, will that limit the scope of their interpretations of the provided texts? This is a question that I struggle to answer in relation to my own role as a scholar.” I struggle with tis as well Cara. But, in order to “get there”—egalitarian positioning of the sexes—I see it imperative to continue the discourse of former feminists. Let the web form in our minds so that we can form a new paradigm of equal. Tell the histories, ideologies, political situations, and cultural expectations, all of the multitudinous factors that contribute to woman’s writing. Then maybe we can move forward and not discuss and contest gendered issues.
Therefore, my literary history is all that I have experienced, read, analyzed, and learned, specifically, much feminist theory along with new historicism. I have a good understanding of the scriptures of the Old and New Testaments and discourses contending the patriarchal positioning of woman as unequal within these texts. By no means exhaustive, I have read women’s writings popular in feminist discourse from Sappho, Christine de Pizan, and Simone de Beauvoir, to Woolf, Rich, Stein, and more. I am still actively tying strings together.